Sporalysis
by acktacky
Summary: Ken is starting to feel a little left out and like him old self again...
1. Default Chapter

**Title**: Sporalysis

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything... There I said it.

**Note**: I realize that it's bad. I don't exactly know where I'm going with it, and from the looks of it, I don't really like where it's going either. It's bad, but maybe I just need to get on with the other chapters. I know Davis getting a girlfriend is so... ... Lame... And I might change it in the future... Yeah... Maybe... *rolls eyes and shoves a knife in her forehead*

Oh yeah, I don't use their Japanese names (and puhlease save me those comments, I know what they are) and I don't want to use them. Kay? Have fun reading this pile of crap, will ya?

----------

Ken stared at his watch with violet eyes half lidded. The second hand passed the minute hand, as it had done fifteen times before. Every soft tick brought the sun creeping down the horizon, its shape being deformed by the tall buildings that lay off in the distance.

Every moment reminded the adolescent boy that things had been distorted. That his stomach would be left empty, as it had been for the past three days, and that his hair would remain uncombed, as it had for the past two. He noticed, sadly, that his trips to see the other Digidestined would not be as frequent as before, and that, perhaps, he had been forgotten once again.

It had been four long years since Ken and his friends had saved both the digital world and the real world from chaos. He was happy for the first time in so long. Davis and himself had hung out for much of the four years; however, high school did split their levels rather harshly.

The hour hand glided to the big black seven, and Ken released a heavy sigh. Another day was about the pass, and yet another would take its place, a Monday nonetheless. Ken hated them just as much as anybody else. It meant passed in homework from the weekend, and chattering people discussing of their affairs over the two rejoiced days. It was nothing he ever enjoyed.

Honors classes couldn't even hold up Ken's level of intelligence anymore. He was respectively placed in a small classroom all day, with a few others, and was taught college classes, even though he was nothing but a sophomore in high school. It had surprised everybody that for several years he had slipped in his education, but all of a sudden was able to concentrate so viciously on his studies once again.

The boy rolled onto back and traced a pale, shaking hand across the white ceiling. His bunk was high enough to do so, and it made him feel rather secluded from everything. The darkening light from outside barely touched the floor of his room, as he had realized the second hand passing the minute hand again on his small dark watch. He had lost count, but he guessed he had been lying there for over three hours.

A knock filled Ken's room without warning; his nerves were rather shaken at the sudden sound, but were soon cooled. He moved his head to the side, and watched as the door was opened slightly, the light from the hallway filling the monotone room. His mother, brown hair curled and a worried smile on her face, came peering in. "Ken, honey, it's time for dinner."

Ken rolled his head back to stare aimlessly at the ceiling. The very thought of food made him nauseous, and everything seemed to shoot back to what he was thinking before hand. "No… Mom… I'm not hungry." He muttered with thin words.

"But Ken…" The mother pleaded softly. She knew, however, that the boy would not move an inch even if she tried to persuade him more, so she just closed the door and left him to be.

The dark haired boy shut his eyes tight, as if it would erase everything he was thinking, but it didn't. Those amethyst orbs began to open again as he realized that nothing was going to change. He didn't have the power to do anything about it, let alone the power to do much of anything at that moment.

Ken figured he had been replaying the whole conversation within his head for the past three weeks. Every time his mind recalled the words, he felt thrown deeper into the pit of darkness he had started to create for himself. Every time he felt himself drift farther from his friends. Every time he felt himself grow more intimidated by everything that even stirred around him.

"_We need to hang out sometime, Ken. It's been awhile_," Davis's voice called from miles away. Ken never liked the phone, but hearing his best friend's voice changed his dislike for the piece of technology. "_I've just been busy with soccer and school and all that. High school sure is hard!_" A small chuckle had transferred through the phone after the soft words. "_Oh… OH! Guess what!_"

Ken could remember twirling his finger around the phone cord and mindlessly asking, "What?" He was amused, and a giant grin had hostage of his lips. The boy had barely spoken a word, but he never really had a problem with that. He figured he would have bored Davis to death with how his life was going.

"_There's this really nice girl at school, and I think she likes me!_" The goggle boy must have almost dropped the phone with excitement, because there was a shuffle on the other end before he continued. "_TK said I should just ask her out. Do you think I should? I mean, TK is just probably saying it because he wants me to get rejected or something. He's such an ass sometimes._"

The silent boy had traveled half way across his living room before he could find the words to reply with. The swear kind of had him off guard. Davis was starting to change, and Ken couldn't keep an eye on him like he used to. "Well, yeah… I guess. If you think she likes you…" He let his voice drop off as he rubbed an eye nervously. He began to wish more and more that they went to the same school together.

Davis had let out a satisfied chuckle, "_You always talk sense, Ken._" There was a small disturbance in the background. Ken figured he had sat down on something, "_Let's hang out on Friday. I'll take the bus to your house, 'kay? We should take a visit to see Veemon and them._"

Of course now Ken regretted even agreeing with the boy. "Okay, I'll make sure to be home." As if he had anything important to do. He didn't have soccer after school, and he didn't need to be tutored. His schedule was always free.

Davis probably knew this too, but let out a happy chuckle anyways. "_Alright then. I'll see ya on Friday!_"

"Right," Ken muttered, that same smile upon his face.

"_Don't let the homework eat ya! Bye!_" With that, the other end was cut off with that disappointing _click_.

"Bye…" the boy that lay in the dark spoke out loud. His own voice frightened him, and he had to grasp to his own clothing to keep himself calm.

Davis never did show up that day. Ken had figured that maybe he had more important things to do, which he would have understood. The boy wasn't a very important aspect of anybodies life, but it had been three weeks since the conversation, and he hadn't even received a reason for why Davis never attended.

That familiar but distance sound hummed into Ken's ear like an annoying buzzer. He rolled onto his and stared blankly at the dark shadows upon his wall. There was no color when he turned his back, and not even the soft purples from the evening sky could creep up to his body now.

A different sound came to his ears, and it seemed to gain volume after every jumping second. Ken kept a cautious eye on his watch, even though the numbers and hands were barely visible in the dark cavern. It had been 8:40 and 40 seconds when the door creaked open, his mother standing at it's opening with the small cordless in her hand. "Ken?"

The boy didn't respond. He never liked the phone, as stated earlier, and he had been finding that the reporters were slowly starting to take back interest into him. If it wasn't a reporter, it was colleges, asking for him to take their scholarships and give them a good name. Well, minus the last part, but Ken knew that there was an intention for such a thing.

"… Oh, I'm sorry Davis, dear. I think he's sleeping," the mother replied into the phone. She began to pull the door shut when she finally purged a whimper from Ken.

There was a surge of self-loathing when Ken had moaned the words, "No mom, I'm awake. Give me the phone…" He felt so annoyingly reliant on the boy that obviously had more of a life than himself. His mother walked over and placed the phone into Ken's awaiting hand and quickly left the room. "Hello." Ken noticed that his voice was rather annoyed, but it was probably because of his own problems.

"_Heyo Ken_!" Davis cried happily. It dared to bring a smile to Ken's lips.

"Hi," the dark-haired boy greeted again.

"_Ugh, dude, I'm soooo sorry that I didn't make it last week… Or was it the week before? Oh, whatever. It's just that I've been REALLLYYYY busy! I mean it! I wouldn't leave you hanging for no reason, buddy!"_ The goggle boy sounded just as ignorant as ever.

Ken had let out a sigh before he said anything, "It's okay, Davis."

A strange sound came from the other line before the good old Davis returned. "_Gimme a break, man. I went to the Digital World a few days ago with the others…"_

Ken felt his grip on the phone tighten as he let a single word hiss through his teeth, "Really?"

"_Er, yeah,_" Davis muttered, obviously not catching his own mistake. "_Wormmon said that you hadn't been to visit since the last time all of us went. That was like, six months ago! He's worried about you. You don't need to wait for us you know._"

Those violet eyes seemed to dampen in the dark cove of his bunk. Davis had exaggerated with the time, but it still had been a long time. He always used to go to the Digital world by himself, but now he just didn't feel like going alone. It made him feel small that none of them even bothered to contact him. "I know… Maybe I'll go tomorrow."

"_Hah, good. I'd go with you but I'm busy for the next couple of days. I have a soccer game tomorrow, and then I have plans with Aya…"_ A girl's voice trailed through the phone line, but it was rather loud and snobby to be the lady Davis had just mentioned. "_OKAY _JUNE_. Ugh, I gotta go Ken. I mean, she's old enough to have her own phone… AND OWN APARTMENT!"_ Davis shouted as the sound of glass shattering cried out in the background. "_I'll call ya sometime soon. Make sure you say hi to Veemon for me!"_

_Click…_

The boy let the phone drop from his hand and roll down onto the soft comfort of the bed. He didn't feel like sleeping, nor did he feel like thinking. Who was Aya? Was she the girl Davis had been talking about before? Why…

"Why didn't anybody…" Ken brought himself to sit up, his head just grazing the ceiling of his small room. He hopped off the bunk and walked wearily to the computer that sat on a quaint wooden desk. Peering at his watch he saw that it was only 8:45 and 40 seconds. Ken frowned as he picked up his digivice and shook his computer awake. With a flash of light, the boy was gone from his room and was jolted into a whole new reality.

---------

Ken sat in the world, his head hung in the pouring rain, as he slowly noticed that his clothing was becoming increasingly wet. The Digital World never really _feels_ real at first. It is an odd sensation. His body was nothing but living data in this world, a world that can just reconfigure itself to keep itself constant. That very fact always hits a Digidestined when they arrive to the Digital World… And even running a curious hand through blades of grass seems a little more meaningful than before.

The lonely boy raised his head against the downfall. It would have figured that it would rain when he came. The darkness mirrored the real world, and Ken had to squint just to see the dark numbers on his watch. He didn't know why he was looking at it so often this day. Maybe it was a way for him to calculate how long he had felt alone. That with every passing minute, nothing seemed to get better.

As thick drops of water covered the glass surface of the chronicle device, the boy noticed that there was something not quite right. The hands seemed to have stopped, or maybe they were reversing, or slowing, or…

Ken was too frustrated to care. He unlatched the small device from his left wrist and threw it yards away. He was tired of feeling that he had some kind of control over the day. It was just a bunch of senseless dreams that he was too anxious about to actually voice out.

For instance, maybe, one day at six o' clock all of Ken's friends would come to his house for dinner. Or that at twelve o' clock on a weekend Davis and him would kick a soccer ball around. Even a seven thirty rise to school, smile plastered on his face all day long, was far too much into the dream world that was always in the back of his head.

The wandering rain clouds drifted over the digital moon, its clean surface being covered by the menacing fluffs of precipitation. It was hard to believe that the rain started to fall harder. Like little knives, puncturing every inch of Ken's shaking form in a feverish dance of proclaimed sorrow. A stinging sensation came to his eyes as things began to come into a sharper light, but bit his lip to cool down his oncoming emotions.

Ken muttered soft words to himself; nothing of kindness, like his symbol suggested, however. He had been sitting there for over a half hour, and it amazed even him that time dared to fly past him so quickly. Wormmon hadn't showed up yet, and he hadn't the strength to let himself rise onto the withering sticks he called his legs.

"They're… They're all busy, you stupid boy…" Ken's violet eyes closed against both his voice and the harsh wind that had started up. The forest's leaves that lay to his side rustled in the wind, like a depressing flute played by a dying man. "They'd rather… Live without you. They had you around for long enough… Long… Enough…" He wrapped one arm around his legs and let the other play lazily in the grassy mud next to him.

The dark-haired boy sat in waiting for what seemed like hours in the constant rain. It was like he had his own little rain cloud of his shoulder. He shivered silently, and tried with all his might to stay grounded to his spot. 

Wormmon wouldn't have forgotten about him too, would he? His best friend. His partner. "Wormmon…" Ken stuttered through chattering teeth. His long legs pushed from under him, and before he knew it he was onto his feet. He looked around aimlessly, the rain had created little puddles about his body, and already the depressed area of where he sat was being flooded.

There was something strange, however. Ken leaned in over the crater, and saw something of particular interest. A word, or sound one would say, was written in the soft mud of the ground.

"_Heh_."

Ken looked at his hands, his right index finger having been covered nearly an inch up with soil. It had gotten under his fingernail, and he couldn't help but be a little concerned. He didn't remember writing anything in the ground.

The boy walked backwards, but found himself stumbling over his own feet. He regained balance and treaded off to nearest TV. The rain still hovered about him, and the darkness made it nearly impossible to see the small glowing screen of the digital contraption.

He decided he wasn't coming back to the Digital World for a while…

---------

Wormmon and his friend Veemon traveled down the rain flooded road, their voices silent, and their ears listening to the soft music the digital nature provided them. Wormmon spoke in a low voice, as if he spoke any louder, the whole dark scene would be disrupted, "I'm sure Ken was this way. I felt him. I feel bad that it's taking us…"

Veemon stopped the green digimon in his tracks and sniffed the air nervously, "It's not our fault we had to crawl over mud piles to find 'im. I'm sure he's still here. I can smell 'im now."

The smaller and slower monster groaned softly. "Yeah… Thanks for coming with me," the worm muttered, rather regretfully. "I've just been so worried."

"Ahhh, don't worry. If Davis didn't come to visit me almost every week, I'd be worried too!" Veemon explained, trying to sympathize with his smaller friend. Both the monsters began to walk again, if not a little faster than they had been before. The blue-bodied creature tried to keep at a comfortable pace for Wormmon, for the insect like monster could only go so fast.

"Why didn't Ken come with the others?" the worm breathed, trying to keep up with his two-legged friend.

"I don't know. Davis said that he didn't want to come… Or something along those lines. I don't see why he wouldn't want to come though," Veemon explained.

Wormmon had stopped nearly ten feet away before Veemon finally took notice. He stopped short in the mud, and slid around to try to see what his friend was doing. The worm hopped over and handed the blue monster a small device. It was Ken's watch. "He was here… He was waiting… Something's not right Veemon. I want to see him!"

"I'll talk to Davis about it," Veemon said, patting the digimon on the shoulder and looking off into dark forest that lay next to them both. 

_Davis wasn't telling the truth, was he?_


	2. Sporalysis Part 2

**Title: **Sporalysis: Part 2

**Disclaimer: **Don't own crap.

**Note:** 9 comments is a lot… I'm still shocked people like it. It's kind of shaping up now that I'm getting a little bit into it. This thing is going to be long. D: I rushed it at the end, so sue me. I've been reading a lot, so like, my writing changes a bit because I like how some things sound. Yeah.

-Things I realize that are wrong so I don't get stupid comments about them- I don't know anything about soccer, Japanese schools, and well… How to write, so take that. Bam!

-----

The day started off as cordial as it ever could. It was almost insulting in its attempts, however. Trees wept with the rain from the night before, as the passing breeze seemed to bring the orange sun inches over the disorientated horizon.

A buzzer cried awake upon a clock that spoke with red numbers: six-thirty, as usual. Ken brought a heavy fist down onto the snooze button but continued to lay on his stomach in an attempt to flutter back asleep. It didn't come though. He was too afraid to go back to sleep. The alarm had saved him from a nightmares end, and it wasn't the first time the clock had done it.

 Ken could count how many times it had happened to him in the past two weeks with his two hands. They were horrible images that whirled within his mind like dark typhoon, and each time he woke from the dreams, he could feel his lungs being clutched by some invisible hand.

There was no fleeing thought in the boy's mind though. All he did was lay and stare at the door across his way. Knowing that in just a few minutes he would have to leave out of it and face another day of his isolating classes. It was going to be another day of fasting, learning, and loathing. Things that were becoming too complimentary to his living style, but things Ken didn't care to change. He didn't know if he could this time.

Reluctantly, Ken climbed out of his bed and stretched his thin arms above his head. "Just… Another day." He mumbled, as he grabbed his book-bag and left the confines of his room and apartment. Not even caring that his hair was a mess, or that he hadn't eaten in days, or that he was in the same clothes he had been in for the past day… 

Nobody would notice him anyways, so why should he even notice himself?

----

Ken walked into his small, quiet classroom, full with teenagers that had the brains of ancient ones. Sometimes it felt like whenever he walked into the classroom, he was overwhelmed with something too foreign to even know about. He felt like an intruder to his own learning, and it was that feeling that made him wish to be back in his bed.

The day started off as slowly as it usually did. There was no actual teacher, because the high school couldn't afford a Harvard standard genius to coach them. Assignments were collected and read over, only to easily be passed over the heads of those that tried to correct them. Ken has already finished his homework for the night in the first half hour of school, and was working on the rest of the week. He wanted the time to himself, but he didn't really know how he'd manage so much of it at once.

"Mr. Ichijoji?" A husky, and rather familiar, voice sounded from above the dark-haired boy's shoulder. Ken adverted his eyes hesitantly to the sound, as he dropped his pencil onto his calculus textbook to show that he was, in fact, paying attention.

This was a man Ken hadn't seen in a long while. For some reason, he was rather relieved that it was whom he predicted. "Hello, Coach." The boy's voice cracked half way through, and he trailed his finger over the smooth wood of his lead pencil.

Of course there had to be a reason for this intrusion. None of the other four students in the classroom took notice, but Ken still felt as if there were lasers burning into his skin. He hated feeling singled out, even though the others probably felt the same way. Being this smart was defiantly unnatural…

Ken stopped playing soccer the last season it came around. He lost all motivation for some reason. Or maybe there was a reason; he just didn't like admitting that he hated beating Davis all the time. It kind of hurt how the boy always tried to hide his disappointment in himself behind a smiling face. Ken thought that that was enough, and that Davis needed the victories more than he ever did.

"I wouldn't normally bug you, Ichijoji, but we're in trouble," The coach leaned on the students desk and looked down at Ken's bowed head. It was obvious that he was asking him to rejoin the team. "Retiaku and Ute are both out with broken bones. I tried getting some older players to join again, so I figured I'd ask you, just incase. Everybody misses you, kiddo."

'Kiddo'. Ken didn't know if he should be insulted or just down right uncomfortable. It made him wish to get away from the familiar face as soon as possible. He stayed glued in his chair though, his finger moving the pencil across the books pages and waited for it to roll back into them. "When do you need me?"

"Tonight… Home," the Coach muttered, placing a hand on the textbook and flipping through the pages, as if saying that the work would be easy. They needed him to play soccer. The very vital for life, or so those that have brawn always say. Ken was cursed with both endurance and intelligence.

The boy sighed.

"Alright, I'll be there." Ken figured he'd regret it later, but it didn't matter at the moment. He wanted to do his numbers now. 

Question: Seventy-seven minutes until the end of the school day on April the seventh. The seventh game of the season is to be played at 4:07 PM at home, and the star player will be in the seven jersey. How many times will the teenager in the jersey curse to himself during the next seventy-seven minutes?

Answer (in complete a sentence): Seventy-seven times for every minute that passes before the soccer game starts. However, this statement does not hold true. It would most certainly be seventy-seven times two, for if you do that… At least the product would be an even number.

----

Ken had rushed home to grab his soccer jersey. It had started to migrate to the bottom of his dresser drawer. It smelled of oak and wood cleaner, with a hint of fresh cotton laundry. He was one of the few players that were allowed to keep his jersey and number for such a lengthy amount of time.

He had been number seven ever since the fifth grade. He didn't know if he should feel special, or just plan sick of the horizontal and diagonal constructed number.

Mrs. Ichijoji wasn't home to wish her son a victory. The son was rather relieved of this though. He didn't want to see her drag herself to a soccer game he wasn't even going to try at. Nor did he want to get coaxed back into joining the team. 

He scribbled down a note and left it on the kitchen table.

----

The star player dodged in right before his watch dared to grace across the space between the one and two. The Coach cried with glee and the rest of the team cheered as they pushed Ken to the midfield to play center. He didn't even have time to check out whom he was playing against, he just noticed that they were wearing red.

It wasn't of concern though. He had left his house nearly an hour before hand, and even though the walk to the field is barely twenty minutes, something had stopped him. He remembered standing in a sidewalk full of busy people trying to get by him. Jersey on and face tilted to the blue sky, it probably looked like he was searching for God to answer a prayer to let his team win. And maybe he was, to an effect, because a stinging voice seemed to keep whispering in his ear…

_TWEEE!!!_

Ken was off like a bullet, all confusion whipped clean and left smooth like granite slate. His leg lunged upward and the ball went soaring in the air with a thump from his foot. Before anybody else could get to it, he was in front of the ball and scored the first goal in the first twenty seconds. The crowd was roaring, the cheerleaders were swooning, and the Coach was waving enthusiastically to his team. Ken swallowed a lump in his throat and returned to the center of the field.

_TWEEE!!!!_

Off again. Head butting, kicking, dodging, dribbling, stealing… He was on fire, and the feeling ran through his blood like something he had never felt before. The pugnacious rhythm in him made it feel like a part of him was growing. Something was reclaiming a thing that had gone astray, and Ken was enjoying it more than he intended to.

That's when a glint of light caught the corner of his eye, and a disgruntled growl crunched at his ears. A boy came sliding in, breaking Ken's open field dribble, and claiming the black and white sphere for himself. The dark haired boy pivoted on his leg and swung around to see…

"Davis?"

The goggle boy was off in a red flash, the ball always-just inches in front of his feet, and then flying into the open net.

Four to one.

Those chocolate eyes strayed to the open field and caught onto Ken's. It gave the boy a sick feeling to his stomach, and he could feel his knees going weak. It was only four minutes into the first quarter, so he couldn't quit now. He had to endure the suffrage he felt around his friend. Somehow that thought gave him more energy, and his name was hissed into his ear.

Ken shook his head and ran a hand through his dampening hair. He and Davis stayed out on the field for much of the rest of the game. Even when it came down to four minutes left of the entire game, twenty to fourteen, and two very exhausted teams; the two best friends kept up a competition of who was better. Ken was winning.

Davis had the ball. He was open, and so was Ken. He chased after the keeper and did a daring kamikaze kick with his right leg. It crossed his free leg and both of Davis's. The goggle boy tried to step over the obstacle, but couldn't comprehend it in time to do so. His leg pushed into the other, causing a mess of limbs as both the players toppled over, the ball flying out into the sidelines on the opposite side of the field.

Something snapped. It was a disgusting sound. Being muffled into almost a silence, a voice of its happening screamed out into the green field with anguish. The auburn haired boy coughed into the grass and tried to move his body, but his arm had gone limp. There was blood and grass stains covering both his jersey and various parts of his arms and legs.

The other one stood up. A small scratch on his knee, and all but a little fatigued. He was a few feet away from Davis. The attack happened so fast, and both of them had probably been flying in the air for a few moments. The coach from the other team came rushing out into the field and rolled Davis onto his back. The crowd whispered in confusion. The med kit was called out, and Davis's parents were phoned along with 911. The Coach called Ken back and told him to go home and get some rest. He appreciated the help, and figured that Ken had been pushing himself too hard.

Ken learned the next day that TFC won the last game against Davis's school. He also learned that Davis broke his left arm and couldn't play for the rest of the season.

Ken figured the goggle idiot deserved it.... And so did that voice, as it hissed ugly words into the pretty boy's ear.

----

Monday fled when it realized it was cursed with pain. It flipped its first letter upside down and transformed into Wednesday. Davis sat at his computer desk, struggling to think out an algebra problem that had been plaguing him for the past thirty minutes. He was bored, and he hated doing homework. His arm throbbed with pain and transferred into a killer migraine. It was getting hard to see the numbers on his paper, let alone think of what the answers were.

The goggle boy kicked his chair away from the table and drifted into the middle of his room. He created a floating island in an ocean of polished wood. Rocking back and forth, the boy placed his head back and closed his eyes, listening to the soft creek of his chair. He had gone back to school that day, having missed Tuesday due to being in too much pain. Everybody came up to him and asked how it happened, if they could autograph his arm, and if he did something heroic to claim such a hideous prize.

Earlier in the day, Aya had eased up to Davis's cheek and nearly placed her lips on the smooth flesh. Something in him told him to move away, and he did. TK came by and harassed him about it afterwards. There was no denying. The kid liked her, but there was something he didn't like about being so close to her like that. He likes hanging out with her, and he didn't once deny the fact that he had been changing a little, but he could never bring himself to ask her out.

Not when that nagging navy haired boy gnawed in the back of Davis's head. He was too ashamed to admit that he missed seeing Ken. There was something he was hiding though, and he was afraid that it would fall in on top of him if he didn't stop throwing dirt onto it.

_He's annoying… He's clingy… He's too much of a geek… He ruins the mood… He's not one to show off to friends… _Davis spun his chair around and watched, as the ceiling rotated above his head, yet seemed to stay so very constant. "He's annoying, and clingy, and geeky, and boring…" He looked down at his plain white cast. It was already becoming decorated with purple, blue, and black sharpies. "_Get Well Davis! 3 Kari" "Davis loves men! (I hope your mom reads this!) TK" "Cody"_

Davis smiled slightly, yet he knew what he was telling himself was a lie. He didn't tell any of them Ken was there at the game. He didn't tell them that the star player was the reason why he was in a cast now. He didn't tell them that he was relaying false messages to them about Ken.

For some reason the goggle boy just couldn't stand thinking about the kid. But even after all that happened in the past few days, he was concerned. There was something about Ken that didn't seem all… There.

He wasn't going to let anybody but himself know about it though. He had to get over his own fears on his own and see what was wrong. There was something in Ken's eye that looked rather familiar… And not in a good way.


	3. Sporalysis Part 3

**Title: **Sporalysis

**Disclaimer: **Naddah is mine. Kay? You can have Aya too. She's boring.

**Note: **Don't you hate it when things sound SO much better in your head?

-Again, things I know I didn't get right so stfu- How Japanese schools function… And um, that's it.

I also know that their character is a little off, and I'll try to fix that in the following chapters… Hopefully you guys will like where it leads. It's kind of a lame idea, but overall, it is kind of original * trying to make self feel better *  :

-Changed Veemon's character… It was bothering me too. X.x;; - so obviously, comments help. ^_^; OKAY I SHUT UP NOW!

---

"Yo! Davis!" a very familiar and strangely excited blonde haired teenager made his way hastily to the injured soccer player's side. "Hey man, how's the arm?" he asked from the corner of a smile, and doing as he usually did, allowed no time for his friend to answer. "Sooo, Davis… Buddy… Pal… AMIGO… Did you do your science homework?"

Davis shot a glance at the golden crowned T.K. and let a smile grasp hold of his lips as well. "Give me a break, dude. You're kidding me right? I'm the one that's always asking you this question."

"Ah, yeah I know, that's why you owe me. I left the apartment early so I could catch you on the way to school. You better have it, or you're in for a royal ass kicking." T.K. swung a light punch into Davis's gut, making the boy flinch back a few steps with a chuckle.

The crippled teenager pushed his friend away with his strong arm, and continued to walk down the sidewalk to his high school. "What the heck is so important that you missed out on doing a worksheet on _cell division_? I mean, that stuff is _great_. Hell, I took two hours out of my life to do it." Davis trailed a hand through his hair as the last words slipped out of his mouth. "Then again, I guess I don't really have a choice, do I?" 

The pair came to a stop at a street junction and stood in anticipation for a red light that would allow their passing. "Haha, damn right my friend. Nobody in their right mind would want to make out with a kid that has a broken arm." T.K. caught the strange chocolate glare he was receiving from Davis and channeled it into a hearty laugh. "Take that Mr. Soccer Man! Kari and I got a little close last night, so that's even more of a reason to let me copy off your homework!"

"I think not!" Davis growled between jealous giggles. "But, eh, I do owe you… I'm over Kari anyways. I think Aya has a thing for me, or at least more of a thing that Kari ever had."

"Aya's that girl that you're always hanging out with during lunch, right?" The junction lights turned red, and the friends crossed the street to the sidewalk that was cast before the huge high school.

Davis nodded. He couldn't help but blush at the fact that there was perhaps something brewing between the two of them, but then that nagging, killing, mysterious attacker stabbed his flatter away. It never failed to do so, and it never failed to leave a throbbing carcass of an infamous "splitting headache."  

The boy shook his head and released his left shoulder from a book bag strap. Bringing his body to a stop, he unzipped the bag and rummaged through the contents. Finally he pulled out a crumpled worksheet and handed it to T.K. "Just give it back to me before class starts. I think I'm just going to walk around town for a few more minutes."

T.K. nodded slightly, the smile that had been on his face for nearly fifteen minutes seemed to disappear. "Sure. Thanks man, I'll see you third period…" The boy ran the rest of the way to the high school and found his way to Kari like a magnet. Again the golden boy's face was shining like the sun again.

Davis watched on with a blank stare, his body mounted to the sidewalk while contemplating what was conflicting within him. The mystery just seemed to hand him more knives, and it was getting to the point that he had to shove the objects into his own sides in order to carry some more.

----

Ken was getting to the point that he didn't even understand why he went to school anymore. Or at least why he didn't bring a pillow. The hour hand on his watch had just reached that sublime limbo between the seven and eight, and already he had the teacher's voice tuned out. _The idiots don't even know what they're talking about anyway._ Ken's mind hissed as he lowered his head into the pillow of his arms. 

Sleep was only easy to obtain during school, the dark-haired boy had figured out. At home, there was nothing but nightmares. At school, his dreams were filled with nothing. In fact, there were no dreams. All there was were just clean, white, four-walled rooms where nothing could get in or get out, and all around was a silence that needed no comfort in order to be reached.

So there was a reason to attend the inane place of teaching after all…

With eyelids closed, the genius flew off to slumber, and subconsciously allowed a gateway for an old rival to be opened once again.

---

"Mr. Motomiya… Please explain to me why you are late." The very vibration of the science teacher's voice sent the whole class's eyes to the front of the room. T.K. saw his friend and mouthed, 'I tried to say something!'

Davis pulled the goggles off of his head and folded them between his palms. "Sorry sir, I can't." After his short explanation he attempted to move his way to his seat, but was stopped in his tracks by that same deep voice.

"Motomiya, if you don't have a reason, then you can get the hell out of my classroom. You missed half the class, so why not miss all of it?"

"Good point, sir. I'll see you tomorrow." The goggle boy bowed his head and turned back out the door. Not even a smile tickled his lips as he left the room filled with giggling peers. His mind was too busy with the countless attempts of trying to get a hold of what was happening within him.

            "It was a bad idea," Davis whispered to himself, his pace quickening as he treaded down the school hallway. He pressed out an aggravated growl as he slammed the double doors of the school entrance open. 

_Dammit Veemon! I would never lie! Ken's too stuck up to hang out with me anymore, anyway. If he doesn't want to go to the Digital World like the rest of us, then fuck him!_

Two hours of his school day was dedicated to sneaking back into his apartment and doing a much-needed visit to his digimon pal. It had been a few weeks, and Davis's broken arm didn't really help with the whole transportation of himself between both of the worlds. He needed a friend to talk to, though, and Veemon was the only one he could think of that could at least listen without judging.

A pity the goggle boy's plan didn't work out as he had hoped. As soon as he stepped foot into the digital land, his pal came up to him asking a chain of melancholic questions.

_You didn't need to ask so many questions, for God's Sake, Veemon. It's not like I murdered the kid. "Why wasn't Ken with you last time?" and "Is Ken really that busy?" How am I supposed to know! He doesn't even talk to me anymore! And well, you know what, I'm sorry that I have more important things to worry about then a person that can't even pick up a damn phone._

Davis had finally got sick of listening to the persistent questions Veemon was asking him, and just left the other world as abruptly as he had come in. He would have loved to talk about Ken, but it seemed that all it would have led to was more whining and repeated questions.

_I just… Have things to do. I don't have time to talk to him anymore… Is that my fault? No! He knows he can come over whenever he wants! God, if he wants to hang out, all he has to do is just frickin' say something. Yeah… If he wants to do something, let it be up to him! Screw calling that selfish wreck!_

It took a shower of car horns to awake the teenager from his daze. Davis looked around in confusion before he realized that he had walked into the middle of moving traffic. A scared looking fellow sat in a car nearly two feet away from the absent-minded goggle boy.

Davis tried to smile weakly and mouthed a 'sorry' to the man and ran the rest of the way across the street. The car that almost hit him skidded off, and he continued to walk on the sidewalk to his apartment, just as confused as he was before the incident happened.

"Something's pissed at me…" Davis inquired in a mutter. He made sure to keep his eyes up and his mind blank so he could at least get home with _just_ the broken arm.

---

Ken's eyes drifted open as the bell for fifth period rang about the school. The sound was so annoying, but he had slept through four rings, much to his own surprise. He kept his head on his fleshy pillow until after the ruckus outside of his classroom dissipated into the favored silence. The teachers had finally shut up, and all that he could hear was the flipping of textbook pages from the students next to him.

The boy yawned into his arms and finally raised his head slowly to the world. Ken looked lazily at his desk. Both his large textbooks were in the corner of his desk, and the sheets of paper he had put out hours ago still sat in silence with nothing written on them. There was something missing though. It was his pencil. He looked around under his desk and in his backpack before he noticed that it was in his hand the whole time. No sooner when he realized this, he noticed that those blank pieces of paper on his desk were, in fact, not blank.

Ken squinted with tired eyes at the messy signatures placed across the white surface. "_Hello Ken. Write back._" He looked around at the classroom, not really comprehending who would write such a childish note to him. But, from lack of any amusement, he wrote a message back that read, "_Hi._"

Again, the dark-haired boy looked around in hope that the person that wrote him the note would acknowledge the fact that he was awake. It seemed, however, that the secret admirer was quick in writing a response. By the time he had turned his attention back to the note, another message was already written under his. 

"_It's been awhile, hasn't it?_"

Ken looked at the paper, wide-eyed and frightened by the fact that he didn't even see who had written the quick appearing message. Cautiously he scribbled down a, "_Who are you?_" and waited for the response to come.

Like an action only found in movies, Ken's hand moved with a mind of its own and swiped crooked calligraphy underneath the conscious note. "_Why it's me,_" his hand stopped, and Ken tried with all his might to move it on his own, but to no avail, the words kept appearing on the paper. "_What, can't remember all the pain we had together? Seems like we'll be sharing some m…"_

The silent boy had, for once, caused a commotion in the tiny classroom. His arm shot up from the victorious battle between himself, and a disgruntled cry shot from his mouth. Every person's head snapped to the disturbance, the source not even taking notice of those that watched on to him. Ken closed his eyes and brought his hand back down, only to bring both palms to the side of his head.

A laughing. A screaming. Insults, yelling, giggling… All swimming in his head as he looked between thick eyelashes at the paper that sat on his desk. An anguished line peeled off the side of the paper, and scratched along the surface of the desk. The pencil whereabouts had grown unknown, and Ken could do anything but care. If the instrument were gone, then maybe the yelling would stop. Maybe the insulting voice would change.

"Mr. Ichijoji, do you want to go to the nurse's office?" The teacher had crawled his way toward Ken's seat and looked at the boy with concern.

All the genius could do was nod his head, and hope for that if he went, the pain would go away.


End file.
